


the want you couldn't hide

by sugaplumvisions



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Agender Azumane Asahi, Angst with a Happy Ending, Genderfluid Sugawara Koushi, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Multi, Other, Side tananoya but not enough to justify a ship tag, mind the warnings in the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24989197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugaplumvisions/pseuds/sugaplumvisions
Summary: When Daichi and Suga leave for college, Asahi's heart breaks as their unconfessed love loses its chance. When Daichi and Suga start dating each other, Asahi's lungs break, sprouting flowers that they can't stop coughing up.Hanahaki disease is not so much rare it is as a part of legend, but when Asahi comes down with a bad case, they, with Noya's help, have to try to find a way to stop it. But Daichi and Suga can only be pruned so far out of their life before they take action of their own.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 86
Collections: HQ Mini Bang





	the want you couldn't hide

**Author's Note:**

> A million thank yous to LukasTreeHouse on twitter for the amazing beta job! 
> 
> Warnings for: Spoken homo/transphobia (from Asahi's parents), description of injury (light blood/blisters), and potential emeto warning for coughing up flowers/heaving.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Asahi says as they wait at the station for a train they never want to come. 

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Suga says. Her train pulls in, and as people start streaming off of it, they can barely hear her in all the commotion. “Be good, yeah? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

“ _ Is _ there anything you wouldn’t do?” 

Suga smiles brightly. “That’s for me to know and you to find out when you wake up in jail and realize ‘Suga wouldn’t have done this.’” 

“I’m not...I mean. Suga. I’m not waking up in jail,” Asahi says. 

“That’s what you think. What if we’ve just been holding back your wild side all this time?” 

“I think my wild side is pacified by my personal grooming choices,” Asahi says. They aren’t exactly looking at Suga, instead looking over her shoulder at the train that will take her to Tokyo, away from Asahi, away from everything they’ve ever known together. 

Suga lays a hand on Asahi’s cheek. “We’ll come back for you, you know. You do know that, right?” 

“I know,” Asahi chokes out, laying their hand over hers. 

“I love you,” Suga says. “Daichi does too. I know we don’t really say that, but we should. And I--” 

It rips Asahi apart inside, to hear her saying something so close to a confession, yet not quite one, just an affirmation of their years of friendship. 

“I love you guys too,” Asahi says, cutting her off, part on accident, part on instinct to keep her from saying anything that would hurt any more. “Nothing’s going to change between us, right? College and everything...they’re not going to break us?” 

Suga smiles, small and sad and sweet. “Nothing’s going to break us, Asahi. Not even this.” 

Asahi swears they see tears in her eyes. 

“Stay,” Asahi whispers. “We’ll make it work.” 

“I’ve got to go,” Suga says. “I’ve got to do this.” 

“I know,” Asahi says. “I just...had to ask.” 

And then Asahi is wrapped tightly in Suga’s arms, her face smashed against their chest, and Asahi wonders if to the casual observer they look like a lovers’ goodbye, with Suga in her skirt and stockings and Asahi in their jeans and flannel. 

“I’m sorry,” Suga says. “I really did mean what I said, you know.” 

“Yeah,” Asahi says. And of course she loves them, of course they love her. “I mean it too. Don’t let this break us apart, or I’m siccing Nishinoya on you.” 

Suga laughs, but she’s still crying. “Anything but that!” 

The train issues a statement that it’s ready for boarding, and Asahi helps her arrange her suitcases just so, so that she can carry them all. As she leaves, she stretches up to plant a kiss on Asahi’s cheek, just where her hand had been earlier. 

“I’m sorry,” she says as she pulls back. “I just. You looked so sad.” 

Asahi’s heart thrills. Asahi’s heart breaks. 

“We’re always going to be us,” they say. “I’ll come see you.” 

“You better,” Suga says. “Goodbye, Asahi.” 

Asahi knows it’s a risk, knows they’re probably fucking everything up beyond recognition just for their stupid, unrequited love, but has to say it. “Goodbye, Koushi.” 

Suga looks back and gives them a watery smile. They raise one hand in a silent goodbye, and then step onto the train. Asahi watches the train until it’s only a speck in the distance. 

#####

“You missed seeing Suga off,” Asahi says the next day, as they help Daichi pack the last of his things. 

“My parents threw a graduation dinner,” Daichi says. “I couldn’t get out of it. Besides, It’s not like we’re not going to see each other every day.” 

“I’m jealous, you know,” Asahi says. “I always wanted to share an apartment with you two, and here you are living together.” 

“You’ve got to save to make your first collection,” Daichi says. “Then you can come to Tokyo and blow up big and get us a penthouse.” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be penthouse-famous,” Asahi says, shrugging off the praise. 

“Well you’re at least going to be Suga’s and my sugar...something,” Daichi says. 

Asahi snorts. “Some sugar anything I am,” they say. “Holding down the fort at Ukai-san’s shop.” 

“It’s just a step,” Daichi says, offering Asahi two corners of a blanket for them to help fold it. They do a practiced dance from years of helping each other clean their rooms, and in only a moment Daichi is bending to put the now-folded blanket in a box. They repeat it with the sheets, the easy intimacy of the movements as their hands brush pricking at the corners of Asahi’s eyes, pounding at Asahi’s heart. “You’ll get there.” 

“I don’t know,” Asahi says. “What if I have delusions of grandeur?” 

“You don’t have delusions,” Daichi says. “Besides imposter syndrome. Your work is incredible, and once you get discovered, you’re going to be famous.” 

Asahi thinks back to their notebook, filled out with scribbled, aborted attempts at design, and rolls their eyes. 

“Don’t roll your eyes at your captain!” Daichi says. 

“You’re not my captain anymore,” Asahi says. “I’m with the neighborhood association now.” 

“Don’t rub it in!” Daichi says. “You can at least give me a little respect. For old times’ sake.” 

“Daichi, since when have I ever respected you?” 

“Fair point.” Daichi dumps out the contents of each drawer of his desk into a box, and looks around his room. “All done, I think. But, Asahi, can I talk to you?” 

“What’s going on?” Asahi says, cocking their head at Daichi, instantly paying attention. 

“Did you mean what you said to Suga last night?” Daichi takes a deep breath. “I’m so out of my element here. But did you really mean it? That you just want things to stay the same? That--” 

Asahi cuts him off. “Of course I meant it. I want to stay close to the two of you. I want you to come back for me like you promised, and for the three of us to get a shitty apartment while I pitch my designs. It’s just a year that I’ll be here, then next year we can all be together again.” 

“Together,” Daichi says. “Yeah.” His face falls. 

“I know,” Asahi says. “I’m going to miss you too.” 

Daichi smiles wanly. “Maybe I’m just sad I have to pay half the rent instead of a third.” 

“You’re going to miss me,” Asahi says. “I know it.” 

“Dumbass,” Daichi says. He reaches for Asahi’s hand and squeezes it hard. “You watch out for yourself, why don’t you?” 

“I’ll try my best,” Asahi says. 

“Daichi!!!” his mother calls from downstairs. “Time to load the car! Start hauling your boxes!” 

Daichi uses Asahi’s hand to pull them into a hug, patting them on the back and then just squeezing. 

“Suga said you loved me,” Asahi says, trying to keep their voice light, but needing to hear it from Daichi’s own mouth. 

“Suga was right,” Daichi says. “I know I shouldn’t, but--” 

“No,” Asahi says. “I love you too.” 

Daichi laughs, and it’s almost bitter. 

“Daichi!” his mother calls. “We’ve got to get things loaded. Asahi! Will you knock some sense into my boy?” 

“You heard her,” Asahi says. “Time to get loading.” 

Daichi sighs. “Here we go. Into the future.” 

#####

Asahi sits down on their floor and sifts through fabrics. Nothing is speaking to them. They have no ideas, only sadness. They can’t stop thinking about Suga and Daichi. 

What if they never see them again except for holidays? What if they never make it to Tokyo? What if by the time they get there, Suga and Daichi have grown up too much to want them anymore? 

They feel stuck in this town, while their--friends is wrong, lovers is wrong--while the loves of their life are off experiencing the world. 

They’ve been staring at the same piece of plaid fabric, one they’re not sure why they bought in the first place, when the doorbell rings. 

“Asahi!” Nishinoya says a few moments later, bounding into their room. “Your mom let me in! How are--oh.” Noya looks them up and down, sitting on the floor, shoulders drooped. “Taking it that hard?” 

“I miss them,” Asahi says. 

“We all do. We miss you too,” Noya says, sitting down beside them and leaning his head on their shoulder. 

“I’m still right here when you need me,” Asahi says, reaching over to wrap an arm around Noya. 

“I know,” Noya says. “But things are still...different.” 

“Things are supposed to be the same with me and Daichi and Suga,” Asahi says. “They swore to it. But I can’t help but feel like things are going to change.” 

“Things always change,” Noya says. “You just gotta change with them.” 

“I don’t want us to change,” Asahi says, squeezing Noya. “I want me and Daichi and Suga to change even less.” 

“You’ve been close for a really long time,” Noya says. “Would doing something help get your mind off it?” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Asahi says. “I feel like I can’t say what I want to in this house.” 

“Garigari-kun time. My treat.” 

Asahi not-quite laughs. “You think I want to go back to work on my day off?” 

“We could get them from the grocery store!” Noya protests. 

“And have Ukai-san call me a traitor if he finds out?” Asahi says. “No thanks. Let’s just go get them from work..” 

Noya bounces alongside them as they walk to the shop, taking three steps to their two. 

“You said you couldn’t say what you wanted to at home,” Noya says once they’re off Asahi’s street. “What did you mean by that?” 

“You know my parents are...not exactly supportive,” Asahi says. They duck their head and stare resolutely at the pavement.

“My offer to fight them stands.” Noya puts up his fists and mimes boxing. 

Asahi actually laughs this time. “You could punch them in the kneecaps.” 

“Excuse you!” Nishinoya says, punching upwards and making a little  _ pow _ noise under his breath. “I can at least get their stomachs.” 

“You better not fight my parents,” Asahi says. They go back to staring at the ground. “Or anyone, really. Or you’ll end up in jail, and I don’t need to lose anybody else.” 

“You’re thinking about them again, aren’t you?” Noya asks, looking up and cocking his head at Asahi. 

“Maybe,” Asahi says. They shrug one shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever stopped.” 

“Did something happen when you said goodbye?” Noya asks.

“I...Suga said they love me. Daichi did too.” Asahi lets out a long sigh. 

“Wait, you’re finally dating them and you didn’t tell me?” Noya stands bolt upright and slaps a congratulatory hand on Asahi’s shoulder. 

Asahi sputters. “Finally?” They flinch away from Noya. 

“I have eyes, Asahi-san!” Noya says. “You’ve been in love with them since my first year, at least.” 

“You knew?” Asahi asks, flabbergasted. 

“Got the long-distance blues?” Noya says. “I’m sure you can go to Tokyo some weekend and get some.” 

Asahi’s shoulders droop. They’re too emotionally exhausted to even bother with Noya’s assumptions about their sex life. “That’s the problem,” Asahi says. “We’re not dating.” 

“I don’t understand.” Noya furrows his brow. “You love them and they love you.” 

“It’s not...they don’t love me like that.” Asahi’s shoulders droop, and they blink fast to avoid crying. 

“Oh,” Noya says. He stops in his tracks, and when Asahi stops too, he wraps his arms tightly around their waist. 

Asahi hugs them back for a long moment, and then pulls away. 

“I think this calls for...TWO garigari-kun,” Noya says. “Maybe three.” 

“You can’t fix everything with treats, Nishinoya,” Asahi says. 

“I can try!” Noya protests. 

It almost cheers them up. 

#####

Asahi’s phone rings just after they get off their shift at the shop. 

“Suga?” they answer. “Pronouns?” 

“And Daichi!” Suga’s voice comes through the speaker loud, clear, and chipper. “Say hi, Daichi! Also, they.” 

“Hi, Daichi,” Daichi says, a touch of amusement in his voice.”Also, they.” The sound of a thwack reverberates through the speakers. 

“That is not what I meant, and you know it!” Suga says. 

“Hi, Asahi,” Daichi says. “How’s fashion?” 

“Same old same old,” Asahi says. “I’m still stuck.” 

“You just need inspiration,” Suga says. “Next time I’m in town I could model for you?” There’s something in their voice that if Asahi weren’t realistic, could almost be mistaken for flirtatiousness. 

Asahi thinks of Suga in their clothes and sucks in a breath. “You...may have actually just given me an idea.” 

“I’ll model the menswear,” Daichi says. “What, you thought you could get out of this?” 

“I’m not really a menswear designer…” Asahi says, but their brain is already churning. 

“Well you better come up with some for me,” Daichi says. “Or I’ll just know that you like Suga better.” 

“Obviously they like me better,” Suga says. “I’m everyone’s favorite.” 

“Maybe Asahi is my favorite,” Daichi says. 

“Betrayal! I’ve been betrayed!” Asahi hears a  _ whump _ that can only be the sound of Suga falling backwards onto the couch. 

“Enough about me,” Asahi says. “How’s class going?” 

“What, for the first two days?” Daichi asks. 

“Mostly syllabuses,” Suga says. “Syllabi?” 

Asahi laughs. “It’s definitely one of those. I don’t envy you, though.” 

“You lucky bastard,” Daichi says. 

“I mean, I have to work,” Asahi says. “And when I’m not working, I’m sewing.” 

“One of my professors already seems kind of terrible,” Daichi says. “Everything’s very….much.” 

“That’s what you get for not having a major picked yet,” Suga says, and Asahi can only imagine them nudging him on the shoulder. “My teachers seem nice. I mean, they’re teaching me how to work with kids, so I can only hope that they’ll be nice.” 

“You’re going to do great,” Asahi says. “Daichi, that seems like a lack of making decisions kind of problem.” 

“Okay, so you’re telling me that I deserve to have to do physics?” 

“You wouldn’t have had to do physics if you’d signed up for your core science classes earlier. You could have gotten away with something nice and squishy.” 

“I hate physics,” Daichi whines. 

“I’d pick a major, if I were you,” Suga says with a smile in their voice. 

“I’m being bullied! Asahi, take my side.” 

“I can’t,” Asahi says. “I really do think you should think about a major.” 

“You know, you could have majored in fashion design,” Suga says. “You could be right here with us.” 

Asahi sighs. “My family doesn’t have that kind of money.” 

“They do too,” Daichi says. “I’ve seen your family’s house. I’ve seen the size of your room.” 

“Room-slash-studio,” Asahi corrects. 

“What he’s saying,” Suga says, “Is that you could have just asked them.” 

Asahi sighs. “I did,” they admit. 

“Wait, what?” Daichi says. 

“Yeah, what? You told us you didn’t want to be a burden to them.” 

“I asked last year, well before we graduated,” Asahi says. 

“And you didn’t tell us?” Daichi says. 

“I thought we told each other everything,” Suga says. 

“I didn’t want you guys to feel sorry for me.” Asahi sighs. “They told me that they didn’t want to support me going into design, because there was no way I’d make money like that.” 

“They what?” Suga says, voice suddenly bristling with anger. 

“I’m sorry!” Asahi says, apologizing instinctively. “I should have told you!” 

“Hey, I’m not mad at you, Asahi,” Suga says. “I’m mad--” 

“ _ We’re _ mad,” Daichi cuts in. 

“ _ We’re  _ mad at your parents,” Suga says. “For not supporting you. Have they seen your designs?” 

Asahi protests. “I mean, they let me have a studio.” 

“Let you?” Daichi says. “It’s your room!” 

“They’re not...bad people,” Asahi says. “They just want me to be able to support myself.” 

“Well, I’m not going to forgive them,” Suga says. “And I still wish you were here with us.” 

“Yeah,” Asahi says quietly. “Me too.” 

“But there are plenty of incredible designers who are self taught. I mean, I can’t  _ name  _ them, but you did make me watch five seasons of Project Runway, and if I learned anything, I learned that,” Suga says. 

“You also learned that you hate Michael Kors,” Daichi says. 

“Ugh, don’t get me started.” 

Asahi laughs, heart a little lighter. An alarm goes off on their phone. 

“I gotta get home, you two, or I’m going to miss dinner. Talk soon?” 

“Obviously.” There’s a smile in Daichi’s voice. 

“We love you!” Suga says. 

“Yeah,” Daichi says, “What they said.” 

“Love you too,” Asahi says, wishing they meant it in a different way entirely. 

As they start to jog home, they muffle a cough into their arm. 

######

It’s a rare family dinner. Asahi’s parents are so seldom both in town, and when just their father is, he usually eats takeout and lets Asahi cook for themself. But for once, everyone is around, and everyone is sitting down at the table. Asahi is, as usual, miserable in the awkward silence. 

“How was your day at work?” Asahi’s father asks, breaking the quiet. 

“It was fine,” Asahi says. “Busy.” 

“I’m sure Ukai-san appreciates the help now that he’s burning the candle at both ends,” their mother says. 

“He says he does,” Asahi says. “I helped out at volleyball practice today, too.” 

“The neighborhood association keeping you busy, then?” their father asks. 

“You’re like Ukai-san’s shadow at this point!” their mother says. 

“The neighborhood association says they’re thankful to get me,” Asahi says. 

“And who wouldn’t be?” their father says. “You’re a good boy.” 

Asahi flinches. Their mother says nothing to correct him. 

“Are you still working on your little drawings?” their mother asks. 

Asahi tries their best not to flinch again. Their mother means well, they think, but it hurts to have all their work belittled like that. 

“I had an idea for something today,” Asahi says. 

“Where’d you get it?” their mother asks, clearly just humoring them. 

“I was on the phone with Daichi and Suga,” Asahi says, “And--” 

Their father cuts in. “Sugawara? You’re still spending time with with that f--” 

“Gou!” their mother responds before he can get the word out. “Of course we’re glad you have friends, Asahi. Maybe you should just…” 

Asahi sighs. “I don’t feel well. May I go to my room?” 

“You’ve had a long day at work and practice,” their mother says. “I think it’s reasonable for you to want to rest.” She looks to his father. 

“Fine. Just...watch yourself.” 

Asahi wants to run to their room, but instead they walk slowly, not wanting to risk being criticized again by their father or, worse, dragged back to the dinner table. At least this was the last awkward dinner together for a while; their father was being sent out again on a business trip the next day.

Asahi flops down on their bed when they get to their room. 

“Fuck,” they whisper. 

They want nothing more than to call Daichi or Suga to complain, but something between them feels broken now, and Asahi’s not sure how to fix it. 

They eventually sit down and begin scribbling in their sketchbook. A vague idea in their head starts to take form the longer they draw. 

It’s menswear, at least in the cut of it. As they sketch out the top of the jacket, they draw it to accommodate Daichi’s broad shoulder. It flows smoothly, decisively, down to the hips, where it flares out and ends in an asymmetrical hem. The details are delicate, soft embroidery and small silver buttons, in sharp contrast to the sharp lines of the jacket itself. 

It makes sense. It’s like a mix of them, a perfect combination of the people they love. They stifle a cough, just a tickle in their throat, as they start sketching out a pair of pants to go with it. For a moment everything in their mind is clear. 

#####

“Asahiiiiiii!” Suga yells over the phone. It’s been another long day at work, and Asahi is just getting home to an empty house. 

“Asahi!” Daichi says, quieter but still with enthusiasm. 

“Hey you two,” Asahi says, warmth mixing with sorrow in their chest. “Pronouns?” 

“It’s a gay they day,” Suga says, and Asahi knows exactly what smile goes with that phrase. It hurts. 

“How’re you doing? What’ve you been up to?” Suga asks, bubbly. Asahi can imagine them, sitting in some way that belied their chair’s design and befuddled human anatomy. 

“Work is long,” Asahi says. “The team comes by for meat buns a lot after practice, which is always fun. Ukai-san seems to always have me working then, which I suspect is on purpose.” 

Daichi laughs. “He just wants you to wrangle them.” 

“You’d be better at it,” Asahi says, kicking off their shoes without untying them and closing the door behind them. 

“Pffft,” Dachi says. “I’ve had my fair share of the wrangling, thanks.” 

“I’d be good at it,” Suga says. 

Asahi snorts. “You’re an enabler.” 

“Daichi! Back me up!” Suga says, and Asahi can see them nudging Daichi’s shoulder in their mind’s eye. 

“There’s a reason I didn’t leave you alone with them,” Daichi says. 

“You’re the worst boyfriend ever,” Suga says. 

There’s silence on the line. Asahi feels all the breath leave their lungs, like they’ve been punched in the diaphragm. No, more than that. Like they’re living in a vacuum. 

Daichi finally breaks the silence. “Well, that’s one way to let the cat out of the bag.” He forces a laugh, and it’s every bit as awkward as Asahi feels right now, frozen in the entryway, unable to do anything but realize that the loves of their life are both beyond their grasp. 

“You weren’t going to tell me?” Asahi finally chokes out, and they hadn’t realized they were crying, but their voice comes out thick with tears. 

“No, no, no!” Suga says. “We were going to tell you today. That’s, uh, half of why we called.” 

“It was supposed to be...I don’t know. Less abrupt,” Daichi says, and Asahi feels some kind of dirty vindication that Daichi is rattled. Not as rattled as they are, but still. 

“I, yeah. I get it,” Asahi says. 

“No, listen, Asahi!” Suga says. “We were going to tell you in a couple minutes, and you were supposed to...I don’t know...not feel like  _ this.”  _

“We weren’t supposed to change,” Asahi says. 

“We’re not,” Suga says. “I mean. We…” 

“We didn’t mean to,” Daichi says. “It was late, and I’d had another nightmare, and Suga heard me screaming and we just sort of…” 

“Fell into each other,” Suga finishes. 

“Yeah,” Daichi says. “That sounds about right.” 

“We’re not changing. Not really. We’ve always all loved each other, haven’t we?” Suga says. 

“Not the same, apparently,” Asahi says. They’re not sure what vindictive ghost is possessing them, forcing them to voice the anger that’s suddenly sprung up tight in their chest, blacking out the heartbreak. 

Suddenly Suga sounds indignant. “We love you too, Asahi. Stop minimizing that! You’re always--” 

“I have to go,” Asahi says, and hangs up the phone. They’re still numb, walking to their room on autopilot. They feel sick, like they might throw up. There’s something choking them, and they’re not sure whether they should claw at their throat or whether it’s just sheer emotion. 

They bury their head in their bed, still in their day clothes. Suddenly they feel very tired, and they close their eyes against the sting of hot tears. Asahi lies there until they fall into a restless sleep. 

#####

Asahi wakes up to a pounding headache. They pad into the kitchen in bare feet, having forgotten to put on their house shoes the night before, and down painkillers and a glass of water. 

“Ugh,” they say. 

They look down at their phone. 

30 text messages. 

_ Dai: Asahi, we need to talk. _

_ Suga: we never meant to hurt you.  _

_ Dai: Asahi, pick up the damn phone. _

_ Suga: please listen to us we didn’t mean to hurt you  _

_ Dai: I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner; I swear it just happened.  _

_ Dai: Asahi, listen to me. _

_ Suga; asahi _

_ Suga: we love you _

_ Suga: please come back _

_ Suga: we didn’t mean to change it just...happened _

_ Dai: I miss you.  _

_ Suga: I love you, I really do.  _

_ Suga: you can’t...it’s not fair to us if you’re gonna be like this.  _

_ Suga: we can’t be high schoolers forever.  _

_ Dai: I wish you were here.  _

_ Dai: I could explain everything, I swear.  _

_ Suga: listen to me _

_ Dai: This isn’t fair, Asahi. Suga is going crazy.  _

_ Suga: I love you _

_ Suga: i’m sorry it happened like this.  _

_ Suga: we weren’t...not telling you it literally just happened _

_ Suga: Asahi stop being a petty fuck and be happy for us for once _

_ Suga: i’m sorry i’m...i think i’m losing it.  _

_ Dai: Suga isn’t doing well; please answer them.  _

_ Suga: you’d better be asleep  _

_ Suga: i’m gonna haunt your dreams till you text me back _

_ Dai: Please be sleeping.  _

_ Suga: please be okay.  _

_ Dai: Sweet dreams, Asa.  _

_ Suga: you’d better sleep well _

Asahi doesn’t realize they’re crying until a hot tear falls on the phone screen. 

All that stored-up love, all the time they’d spent waiting… They should have tried to move on sooner, before all the moments of love turned from droplets into a tidal wave. But it’s too late now, and they’ll just have to ride the wave. 

Anger wells up again hot in their chest, as they walk back to their room and lay eyes on their designs. 

They were for Suga and Daichi, the way that they fit together seamlessly. Leaving no room for Asahi. Something sick churns in Asahi’s gut as they look back over the sketches, and in a fit of temper they seize them and rip them in half, then in half again, and again, shredding them to confetti. The best thing they’d ever designed, and they’re looking down on particles of it as it litters the floor of their studio. 

Asahi is seized with a coughing fit, hacking and hacking till they can’t get any air, till they’re doubled over on the floor. 

Lying on the floor beneath them, when they finally dry their eyes, are two petals, one deep red and one pale moon-pink. 

They must have blown in through the window. The colors harken to something Asahi can’t quite touch. They almost remind them of everything they can’t have. 

#####

“Did you see me?” Noya asks, taking three steps to every two of Asahi’s. It never seems to faze him, bouncing along by Asahi’s side just like he always does. 

“I saw, Noya,” Asahi says, a wan smile gracing their lips. “You did great.” 

“I’m excited about the new kouhai,” Noya says. “Especially--we really needed a new libero. And who better than me to teach him?” 

“Nobody better,” Asahi says, and the smile almost touches genuine. “He’s looking a lot better since you’ve been working with him.” 

Nishinoya grins. “I knew it! I’m the best senpai.” 

“I thought you said that was me?” Asahi teases, almost distracted from their anguish by Noya’s bubbliness. It’s part of why they’re best friends; they just fit in a way outsiders can’t quite understand. 

“You don’t count anymore,” Noya says, elbowing Asahi in the side. “You’re old.” 

“To be fair, there have been rumors of my ancientness since long before I graduated.”

Noya rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re secretly 25. They’re just jealous because they never finished puberty.” 

“And you did?” Asahi asks. 

Noya huffs. “I’ll have you know I grew a full centimeter.” 

“You should sleep more,” Asahi says. “I hear it helps with growing.” 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead!” Noya crows. “I’d rather be busy than tall.” 

“That’s good for you,” Asahi says, half-smiling. “Because you’re not going to be tall.” 

“I always have you if I need to reach anything.” 

“Ah yeah, I forgot that I was just your step stool.” 

“I meant that you could reach it, but...if you’re going to be like that! Shoulder ride time!” Noya insists, throwing himself at Asahi. 

Asahi briefly panics, but throws his arms up to catch Noya, who koalas around him and starts to scoot himself up towards Asahi’s shoulders. 

“I could help with that,” Asahi says as Nishinoya slowly climbs to their pinnacle, but Noya shakes his head, which would translate well were his face not currently plastered along Asahi’s shoulder. 

“I got it,” Noya crows as he swings a leg over one of Asahi’s shoulders. 

“Do I have to carry you all the way home?” Asahi asks. 

“You agreed to let me come over,” Noya says. “You knew the consequences.” 

“I wasn’t feeling well at the time,” Asahi says. “I wasn’t in my right mind.” 

“You’re not in your right mind now. Otherwise you’d be thrilled to carry me around. But seriously, Asahi, I’m worried about you.” 

“Everybody is, I guess. Except my dad.” Asahi shrugs. “Well, he’s worried, but worried I’ll turn out gay.” 

Noya sucks in air through his teeth. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, but it’s always hard for him to hear, with his supportive parents always providing a safe place for him and Tanaka to land. “I know I said already that I’d fight them, but I’ll--” 

“They’re not even in Japan,” Asahi says. “Good luck with that.” 

Noya huffs, and they walk along (and are carried) in companionable silence for a moment before they reach Asahi’s house. 

“Okay, off,” Asahi decrees. “Otherwise you’re going to kill yourself on the doorframe and I’ll get charged for murder and that generally sounds like a gigantic mess I don’t want to deal with.” 

“Fine, fine,” Noya says, scrambling down off their shoulders. His feet hit the ground and he steps inside, pulling off his shoes. 

“I’ll grab snacks,” Asahi says, taking off their own shoes and walking through the door into the kitchen. “You can head to my room.” 

They take their time in the kitchen, grabbing onigiri and juice boxes, and then catch up to Nishinoya. When they open the door to their room and step inside, they immediately wish they hadn’t. 

“What happened here?” Noya asks, pointing to the scraps of paper and the petals lying in the middle of the floor. 

“I, uh,” Asahi says. They blush and frown. 

“You had designs here, I thought?” 

“I tore them up,” Asahi says. 

“You--Asahi, that doesn’t seem like you.” Noya’s face is grim, and he looks concerned. 

“Daichi and Suga are dating,” Asahi says, all at once, like he’s vomiting the words out. They do, in fact, feel like they might vomit. 

“Fuck,” Noya says. 

“Yeah,” Asahi says. “I’m in love with them and they’re dating each other.” 

“They might decide that--” 

“They’re not going to,” Asahi says, and the feeling of vomiting intensifies as they feel something coming hot up their throat. They cough and heave, and…

Flowers? 

There’s flowers coming out of their mouth, in blood-red and soft pink, and Asahi gags and gags as they spill out of their throat onto the ground. 

Noya stands openmouthed as he watches. 

“Asahi, did you...were you...why did you eat flowers?” he asks, as gently as he can but with an edge of shock sharpening his voice. 

“I didn’t!” Asahi protests. “I...I coughed them up?” 

“Oh my gods,” Noya says. “You...it’s real?” 

“If you’ve got an explanation, I need it now,” Asahi says, sinking to the floor, wrapping their arms around their knees and rocking back and forth. “Please tell me there’s an explanation for why I’m suddenly a...a florist’s shop!” 

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Noya says. “I’ve heard of this?” 

Asahi cocks their head at Nishinoya questioningly, a petal fluttering gently out from between their lips as they give a small cough. 

“You have hanahaki disease,” Noya says. “My grandma told me about it when I was a kid. When you love someone, and they don’t love you…” 

“Please tell me there’s nothing else that happens,” Asahi says, breathing quickening to near-hyperventilation. 

“There’s...I don’t think?” Noya says. “I was so young. I don’t remember so well.” 

“No coughing up, I dunno, salamanders?” Asahi asks. “Please tell me this is the worst that it gets.” 

“Usually I think it’s just one kind of flower,” Noya says. “But you...you’re in love with them both.” 

“Yeah,” Asahi says. “So I’m doomed. No one can know about this. I’m going to, oh gods, they’re going to take me away for research.” 

“We can keep it secret,” Noya says. “We just won’t talk about them. We won’t think about them. Everything is going to be okay.” 

#####

“Asahi! Hi!” Daichi says, greeting them brightly over the phone. Asahi had put off their weekly phone call, waiting until they were firmly in their room, door locked, shut away from the rest of the world. 

“Asahiiiiiii!” Suga calls, but there’s something a little bit sad in the cry of their name. 

“Hey, you two,” Asahi says, stifling a cough. “Pronouns?” 

“Kinda feeling he,” Suga says. 

“How’re you doing?” Daichi says. “You’re late tonight.” 

“I’m fine,” Asahi says. They straighten out on their bed from where they’d been curled up, trying to relax, to breathe.

“Convincing,” Suga says. “Ukai giving you too much trouble?” 

“I just don’t feel good,” Asahi says, and as if to punctuate it, coughs. They pluck a petal of almost silver-pink from between their lips. 

“Suga and I have been--I mean, I’ve been.” Daichi stutters, “ _ I’ve _ been worried about you.” 

“Why?” Asahi asks, turning their head to the side to cough. A crimson petal falls onto the sheets beside them. 

“Just...stuff,” Daihi says. 

“Stuff, yeah,” Suga says. 

Asahi almost admires the two of them for how valiantly they’re not mentioning the previous phone call, or even mentioning themselves as a unit despite both answering Daichi’s phone. 

“I mean,” Suga says, and Asahi watches him in their mind’s eye, pacing back and forth as he picks at his fingernails. “For one, you put off our phone call.” 

“I didn’t go to work today,” Asahi admits. They cough again, and a pale pink flower plops down onto their pillow. 

“I should hope not,” Daichi says. “You sound like you’re dying.” 

Are they? Is hanahaki...it’s real, of course it’s real, Asahi thinks as a blood-red flower falls. But could it kill? Noya had kept his lips stubbornly closed, and Asahi had been too trapped in the haze of confusion and shock. 

“I’m not dying,” Asahi says, realizing in that moment that they very well could be dying. 

Asahi can almost hear Suga rolling his eyes. 

“They’re made of stronger shit than that,” Suga says. “Obviously they’re just going to hack up a lung and then they’ll be fine.” 

“There’s been a nasty cold going around,” Asahi says weakly. 

“In summer?” Daichi asks. 

“I think it’s technically fall now,” Asahi says. 

“Has anything actually fallen off a single tree?” Suga chips in, and the light smirk in his voice would be reassuring if Asahi were really sick, if it didn’t trigger a coughing fit and send morning glory after morning glory tumbling into the trash can as they lean over the bed and retch. 

“Sometimes you just get sick,” Asahi says, once they’re finished coughing. “It’s a thing.” 

“Your immune system would be better if you didn’t worry so much,” Suga chides. 

This, for once, wasn’t Asahi’s anxiety’s fault. Or maybe it was. Maybe if they’d grown a pair and just confessed long ago, none of this would be happening. 

“I’m doing my best,” Asahi says. 

“Drinking lots of hot things? Staying hydrated? Honey and lemon?” Daichi asks. 

“You’re not my mom,” Asahi says, trying their best to hold back a deluge of blooms.

“Obviously,” Daichi says. “For one, I’m queer…” He trails off, likely remembering that he and Suga are not talking about dating around Asahi and realizing that this is too close, and Asahi remembers again that they could have been an option for Daichi, if Daichi had only chosen them. 

That’s all it takes for their lungs to ache, to fill, to empty themselves as Asahi coughs up a damn bouquet into the trash can. 

“Asahi, are you okay?” Daichi asks. They can barely hear him over the hacking. 

“Asahi, are you  _ alive?”  _ Suga asks, and Asahi knows exactly how he’d wring his fingers. 

“I’m alive,” Asahi gasps out between coughs. 

“Should you be alone?” Suga says. 

“I’m fine,” Asahi says, “Really.” 

“Hm,” Daichi says, in that tone of his that says he doesn’t believe them but isn’t going to outright contradict them. 

“I’m texting Nishinoya right this instant,” Suga says, and if Asahi listens closely they can hear the click of his nails on the screen. 

“What color are your nails today?” Asahi asks, and though it seems apropos of nothing Suga answers with a smile in his voice. 

“Orange and black,” Suga says. “You said we have a practice game tomorrow.” 

“Sap,” Daichi says. “It’s not we, you know.” 

“You painted them, you bastard,” Suga says, and Asahi hears a small, affectionate scuffle on the other end of the line. 

Somehow it unleashes an onslaught of memories, of how Asahi and Daichi would each take a hand and paint them painstakingly orange and black before every game. For luck. Just like they two of them would touch Suga’s beauty mark in the locker room before the game. Just superstition, but they’d gone to Nationals on the back of it. 

“It’s a little bit we,” Asahi says. “We put so much time into them.” 

“See?” Suga says. “Asahi agrees with me.” 

“I’m outnumbered,” Daichi says. Asahi can imagine him throwing his hands up into the air in mock-frustration, before smiling affectionately at them--no, just at Suga. 

They cough again, grabbing for the trashcan just in time for another anemone to fall from their lips. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Asahi says once they’re a touch more put together. “I...think I might need to go. I’m not feeling so hot.” 

“If you’re sure?” Daichi says. 

“We don’t mind, Asahi, really,” Suga says. 

“I just. I think I need some sleep,” Asahi says.

“You know you’re not supposed to nap after 3,” Daihi says. “Or else you’ll ruin your sleep schedule.” 

Asahi laughs, then narrowly misses choking on a stray petal. “As if I had a sleep schedule,” they say when the gagging stops. 

“You sound like you need the sleep,” Suga says. “If you’re lucky, you’ll sleep through the night.” 

If they’re lucky, Asahi thinks, they’ll sleep until the flowers go away. 

#####

“Good morning, Asahi-san!” Noya greets them brightly as they look up at him through muzzy eyes. 

“Noya? Why are you...I’m! Why are you in my house! Go away!” Asahi struggles to articulate through sleep and sudden pain. 

“We’re going to the library!” Noya says, chipper as ever. “Shit, you look awful.” 

Asahi feels awful. They feel around their mouth to find blisters have sprung up around their lips, and their tongue runs over more inside their cheeks. They wonder idly which of the flowers is more poisonous, which love will punish them more in the end. 

“I’m not wearing clothes!” Asahi protests. 

“Won’t be the first time I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen you in the showers,” Noya says. 

“That’s not comforting! I don’t want to be perceived on a good day, much less naked,” Asahi says, tugging at the sheets until they’re completely covered, their eyes and nose barely poking out. 

“If I don’t look at you, how do I aim a towel at you?” Noya asks, the air of innocence surrounding him belying the words of his question. 

“Ugh, just leave my room until I’m clothed, will you?” Asahi asks. 

“Fine, but I maintain best friends shouldn’t have secrets,” Noya says. 

“It’s not a ‘secret,’ Nishinoya. It’s a penis, and I prefer to keep it to myself.” 

Noya doubles over laughing, until he starts coughing. For a moment Asahi expects petals to fall from his lips, but they never come. Right. Noya is happily in love with Tanaka, and only Asahi is branded with this curse. 

Noya stands, wipes his mouth, and dutifully turns his back. It’s not quite what Asahi asked for, but it’ll do. 

“Have you googled hanahaki yet?” Noya asks. 

“All I found were bodice rippers,” Asahi says. “Her Hanahaki Lover, The Boss’s Hanahaki Surprise, things like that.” 

“Gross,” Noya says. “But same here. I guess I was hoping you’d be better at searching than I was. But there must be something about it other than stupid happy ending love books.” 

“Please don’t say ‘happy ending’ in conjunction with those books,” Asahi says. “I’m already scarred for life.” 

“Asahi-san!” Noya says, turning, eyes lighting up. Asahi quickly pulls on their shirt, trying to salvage what little modesty they can get. “You didn’t  _ read _ one, did you?”

“Maybe?” Asahi hedges. “Okay, yes.” 

“And it was one of the dirty ones!” Noya chortles. 

“Maybe so.” 

“You read porn, Asahi-san? I always thought you were so pure!” Noya says. 

“I do feel somewhat dirtied,” Asahi says. 

“Your virtue is ruined,” Noya says gleefully. 

“I do also feel that I’ve lost something,” Asahi muses, sitting down on the bed and pulling on a pair of socks. 

“Your innocence,” Noya says. 

“No,” Asahi says. “You and Tanaka stole that long ago.” 

“We made out in the club room  _ one time. _ ” 

“Once is more than enough!” Asahi’s cheeks color deeply as they recollect the memory. 

“We’re going to the library,” Nishinoya says. 

“Just let me put my hair up,” Asahi says. 

“Ugh, you’re so slow.” 

“You spend half an hour every morning spiking your hair just right. I don’t want to hear a peep of protest from you.” Asahi turns to the mirror hanging beside their bed and starts running their fingers through their hair, pulling a hair tie off their wrist as they twist their hair into a loose bun. 

“Fineeeeee.” Noya plops down on Asahi’s bed where they’d just been sitting. 

“Hey, Nishinoya?” Asahi’s stomach is churning and their voice is tight. They pointedly look away from him and focus on the mirror. 

“Yeah?” Noya says, voice light, obviously missing Asahi’s distress. 

“You can’t...die from hanahaki, can you?” Asahi asks. 

There hadn’t been anything about it in any of the romance novels, but those weren’t exactly credible sources. 

“Obviously not,” Noya says. “You’re still alive, aren’t you? My grandma didn’t say anything about dying, just...romance and cherry blossoms and eternal pining.” 

“You were what, eight, when she passed?” Asahi says. “You really think she’d tell you?” 

“Oh, Granny told me all the gross bits of stories,” Nishinoya says. “Scarred me for life with some urban legends.” 

Asahi sighs. “Okay. I’m going to be okay.” 

“Just...gonna be throwing up flowers until we figure out how to fix this,” Noya says. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me. And...there,” Asahi says as the hair tie snaps into place. “I’m done. Time for the library.” 

“Good,” Noya says. “We need to get going. But maybe…” 

“Maybe what?” Asahi says. 

“You should probably wear a mask. Because of the coughing. And the nasty blistering you’ve got going on. And it’ll, uh,” Noya says. 

“Contain the flowers,” Asahi says, nodding. “Right.” 

Asahi rummages in their top drawer until their fingers land on a box of masks--ones with bear noses and mouths on the front--and Noya giggles as they snap it into place. 

“What?” Asahi says, motioning to Noya that they should head out the door and starting to walk away. 

“You’re cute,” Noya laughs. 

“Gross,” Asahi says, and rolls their eyes, but there’s a slight smile behind it. 

“Let me compliment you!” Noya yells as they walk down the stairs. Asahi thinks for a moment that he’s going to launch himself onto their back, and scrambles down the stairs to keep him from doing so. 

They get to the door, slip on their shoes, and Asahi locks up as Noya bounces on his toes. “Okay, Asahi-san,” he begins as they start to walk. 

“I’ve told you a million times. You really don’t have to keep the honorific, Nishinoya,” Asahi says. “I’m not your honorable senpai anymore. I’m just a friend who works in a shop. And as you said, you’ve seen me naked. There’s no honor in that.” 

“It’s a habit.” Noya shrugs. “Maybe I’ll ditch it after I graduate. Let me be proper for once in my life.” 

Asahi snorts. “You’ve never been proper and you never will be. One honorific does not erase a lifetime of sin.” 

“Leave me aloneeeeeeeeeeeeee,” Noya whines, smacking at Asahi. 

“You’ll be fine,” Asahi says. “Also, ow!” 

“You’ll be fine,” Noya parrots. “ _ Somebody’s _ got to keep you in line now that Suga-san--” He cuts off abruptly as Asahi tries to abort a cough. “Shit, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to-- I forgot that--” 

“I know.” They reach underneath their mask and pluck a pink petal, letting it fall to the ground. “I’m not mad.” 

Noya smiles and bumps their arm with his shoulder. “There’s my ace.” 

“I’m not, I mean, isn’t Tanaka--” 

“You’re always gonna be my ace.” Noya pauses for a minute, then segues. “We should probably get together a cover story for what we’re going to tell the librarian.” 

“We’re researching hanahaki for a school project on legends,” Asahi says. 

“You could not look less like you’re in school,” Noya says. 

“We’re researching hanahaki because I’m so horny for bodice rippers and want to find the most historically accurate one,” Asahi says, deadpan. 

Noya guffaws. “Try again.” 

“Why can’t we just tell the truth? Not that I  _ have _ it, obviously, but that your grandma told you about it and you want to do more research on it.” Asahi shrugs one shoulder. “Librarians love researchers.” 

Noya nods. “You’re too smart, Asahi-san.” 

They get to the library in short order, and go up to the desk. 

“We’re looking for books on hanahaki,” Asahi says, over conscious of their intimidating appearance, but hoping that their quirky face mask, gentle demeanor, and tiny, grinning friend will help mitigate it. 

“Hanahaki!” the librarian says. She’s short and round and friendly-looking, with plump cheeks and a wide smile. She looks delighted. “The romance novels are on the right, three aisles in, or if you’re looking for--” 

“We’re looking for history books!” Noya chimes in. 

She laughs. “Well, you’re not going to find it in a history book, per se; it’s just an old wives’ tale. However, we have quite a few books about legends, including…” She types into the computer a bit. “Yes!  _ Hanahaki: Romance and Death in Feudal Japan. _ ” 

Asahi blinks slowly. “Death?” 

“It’s in the title,” the librarian says. “I’ll admit I haven’t read it myself, but I can get it for you if you like.” 

“We can go find it,” Noya says. 

“It’s upstairs,” the librarian says. “Look for the sign on your left that says ‘History’ and then beneath it on the shelf for the smaller label that says ‘legends.” The book is number…” She pauses for a minute. “398.251. Let me write that down for you.” She bends and begins to write down the number. 

“Got it,” Noya says, and sprints off towards the stairs. 

“Nishinoya, no--” Asahi hisses on instinct, but Noya is long gone. Asahi’s stomach churns, both at being left alone to end this social situation and at the book’s horrifying title. “Thank you for your help.” They take the post-it note the librarian is holding and, since their lungs are feeling tight, take the elevator. 

“I got it!” Noya says when they get upstairs. He was waiting halfway between the stairs and elevator, ready to pounce. “Let’s look at--” 

“I think,” Asahi says, “I’d prefer to read it at home.” 

“Got it,” Noya says, mock-saluting. “Would you mind checking it out? I have, uh,  _ many _ fines on my card.” 

“Yeah I can do that.” They already know what they’re going to find in the book, but reading it in home’s relative comforts is much preferable to breaking down sobbing in the middle of the library. “Would you mind heading on back while I check it out?” Asahi says. “I think I’d like some time alone.” 

#####

Asahi’s walk home is slow and plodding, their lungs not allowing for much more. 

Romance and death. 

Romance and  _ death. _

There’s only one thing they can do. They have to get over Daichi and Suga. 

Asahi feels their phone buzzing in their pocket. 

“Asahi!” Daichi says, and Asahi can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Asahi! We just finished our first big test!” Suga says. 

“In our gen eds that we have together, and,” Daichi begins. “I think we did really good.” 

We. 

“We studied our asses off together! It wasn’t the same without you,” Suga says.“She, by the way.” 

There’s no real sadness in the obligatory wish-you-were-here. Just joy in their new circumstances. Asahi’s chest heaves and they locate the nearest shrub. They barely have time to press mute on their phone and pull the mask from one ear before the blisters on the corners of their mouth strain as the deluge of pink and red begins. Asahi pulls stems from their mouth as they struggle to breathe in the moments between flowers. It’s not that effective, and they end up sinking to their knees, struggling for air. Fresh blisters begin to swell as the flowers fill their mouth, and Asahi knows surely that they’re being poisoned. 

Romance and death. 

They cough and cough, yanking flowers out by the stems, always a pink flower twisted together with a red in a stranglehold of love. 

“...guy we’ve been sitting next to has really helped us understand the concepts,” Daichi says, once Asahi finally puts the phone back to their ear. He didn’t even notice they were gone.. 

“Chemistry is haaaaaard,” Suga whines. “But we’ve conquered it!”

“With help.” Daichi caveats. 

Asahi has even been replaced as a study buddy. Not that they were ever that useful. 

“I think it would...I think I should probably go,” Asahi says. “I don’t feel good.” 

“Are you oka--” Daichi begins. 

They press the end button on their phone and slip it back in their pocket. They ignore the buzzing the whole way home. 

#####

Nishinoya is waiting by the door when Asahi gets home. They start panting, hands on their knees, once they make it into the house, gasping for air from lungs that refuse to fill with anything but flowers. 

“You can take off your mask,” Nishinoya says. “You’d probably feel better if...shit.” He swears as Asahi pulls his mask back to reveal more blistering around his mouth and blood running from the corners. “What have you been coughing up?” 

“We can,” Asahi gasps out, “Google it. It’s not like there won’t be more.” 

“Can you make it up to your room?” Nishinoya says. “We can just read at the table. I can bring down your laptop too.” 

“They called,” Asahi says. “Already replaced me.” 

“Asahi no,” Nishinoya says. “They said they loved you.” 

“Not enough, apparently,” Asahi says, and coughs as two flowers drop to the ground. Nishinoya picks them up. 

“We can look these up, easy,” he says. 

“I don’t see why it’s so necessary to know,” Asahi says. “It’s not like it’ll make any difference.” 

“We can take you to the doctor,” Nishinoya says. “Or call the poison information center.” 

“Let’s just read the book,” Asahi says. “I don’t feel like becoming a freak research project.” 

Nishinoya sets down the flowers and wipes his hand on his pants. “Okay. Let’s...introduction seems like a good place to start.” 

_ Hanahaki is an important trope in the history of Japan, and in the context of women’s studies, as it depicts mostly women wasting away for love. Though it occasionally is applied to men, the vast majority of hanahaki stories are of women conveniently dying when they cannot have worth applied to them via being loved. _

“Dying?” Nishinoya says. 

Asahi laughs, harsh and bitter. “What does it look like I’m doing, Nishinoya?” 

“Let’s just...flip to the first chapter,” Noya says. He doesn’t meet Asahi’s eyes. 

_ What Is Hanahaki?  _

_ Hanahaki, recently dubbed Hanahaki Disease by less-than-savory novels, is not the pure, fluffy romance novel trope that many only know it as. In history, hanahaki could be lethal. If the love was not requited, or even if it was requited but such nature was found about too late, the person in question wasted away, with no known cure but said love being returned. The disease gets worse the more the person yearns for their beloved.  _

_ Symptoms described leading to death are consistent with either asphyxiation or poisoning, and theories ascribe said hanahaki deaths to either. _

Asahi slams the book shut. “That’s it. I’m going to die.” 

“Asahi, you have to tell them,” Noya says. “They said they love you; how big of a stretch is it that they  _ love  _ you?” 

“They’re dating, Nishinoya. And they aren’t dating me. What are the chances that even one of them loves me?” 

“What if they do? Are you telling me you’re going to just...leave everyone? Because you were too fucking stubborn to ask?” 

“I’d rather die than push them into a relationship that they don’t want to be in!” Asahi says, eyes wild and voice panicked. They visibly shrink after yelling, ducking their head and burying it in their hands. Their shoulders tuck into their body and they begin to cry. “I don’t want to die, Nishinoya.” Their voice is muffled by their hands. 

“Then tell them,” Noya says, voice cracking. 

“That’s not consent,” Asahi says. “If I force them into a relationship...that’s not right. Please, please promise you won’t tell them. It’d ruin everything. They’d date me no matter what if they thought it would save me. I can’t hold my  _ life _ over someone, you know. That’s absolutely heinous.” 

“Fine,” Noya says groggily. Tears are streaming down his cheeks. “But you have to promise me, absolutely promise me, that you will try your best not to think of them.” 

“I’ll try,” Asahi says. 

Noya opens the book and flips back through. “See?” he says. “It says here that people can live for years with hanahaki provided the flowers aren’t poisonous and they avoid thinking of their beloved.” 

“I’m uh, pretty sure they’re poisonous,” Asahi says. 

“We should probably look them up.” Nishinoya stands. “I”ll be right back, okay?” 

“I’ll just...be here.” Asahi stands carefully and gets themself a juice box from the fridge. They’re sitting down and sipping on it when Noya races back into the room, a little slower this time, carefully cradling Asahi’s laptop. 

“Okay, now we get to look up these flowers,” Nishinoya says. With lightning fingers, he types in Asahi’s password. 

“Hey wait, how did you know--nevermind,” Asahi says. At this point they just assume Nishinoya knows everything about their rapidly-shortening life. 

_ Red flower black and white center _ , he types. The first suggestion Google provides is alamy, which looks close but not quite right. The second suggestion is anemone. 

“That’s it!” Asahi says. 

“You’d be the one to know,” Nishinoya says. 

_ Anemone flower poisonous,  _ he types, and after a barrage of results about whether it’s safe for pets, he adds  _ humans _ to the search. 

“Mild toxicity,” he says. “Major skin irritation, though.” 

“You think?” Asahi says through blistered lips. 

“You could probably. You could make it for years. Your stomach’s gonna suck, and your lips are gonna suck, but--” 

“Let’s google the next flower.” Asahi says. 

The second flower takes longer to figure out, as Nishinoya googles  _ light pink flower, _ then  _ light pink flower five petals, pink flower five petals, pink flared flower five petals, _ to no avail.  _ Pink flower white center _ finally does it; after Noya scrolls through pages and pages of flowers, Asahi blurts out “That’s it!” 

They click on the image, and the flower in question is a morning glory.  _ Morning glory poisonous humans, _ Nishinoya instantly types, and the two give a sigh of relief when the answer is no. 

“Asahi. You’re going to be fine. You just have to, uh,” Noya hedges, jams his hands in his pockets. 

“Cut off Daichi and Suga,” Asahi finishes. “Yeah. That’s gonna suck. At least my parents don’t like them?” 

Noya frowns, and lays a hand on Asahi’s shoulder. “I’m here for you, you know. I’m always gonna be here for you, even if you’re an idiot who won’t confess.” 

“It’s not fair,” Asahi says. 

“Just confess and don’t tell them what’s going on,” Noya says. 

“Even talking to them leaves me heaving. I think if they said no, it would kill me on the spot.” 

Noya’s frown deepens. “Okay,” he says. He takes a deep breath and repeats, “okay.” 

#### 

Daichi and Suga call three more times before Asahi blocks their numbers. Then the landline starts ringing. Asahi’s house is strewn with flowers by the next day; they start coughing every time the home phone rings. 

“Fuck,” Asahi says, pulling more flowers from between bleeding lips. Their mother would be home from her business trip soon, and they’ll have to clean the flowers alone, struggling to breathe through the space between the blossoms. 

They unplug the landline and set to work, sweeping up blooms and wiping clean the damp spots the petals leave behind. 

“Tadaima!” their mother calls, just as Asahi ties off the last trash bag. She walks into the kitchen and finds them with a broom in their hand. “Asahi! You’re such a good son, cleaning up for me.” 

Asahi tries hard not to flinch. They fake a smile behind the face mask, and hope it travels to their eyes. “Trying my best,” they say. 

“You look terrible!” their mother says. “Here, I’ll take that out for you.”

Asahi tries to hold it back. “I’ll take it out myself.” Their words are interrupted by coughing weakly behind the mask. 

“You should get some rest,” she says, shooing them off towards the stairs. “I’ll bring you some soup and Pocari Sweat later.” 

Asahi doesn’t have the energy to do anything but nod and head towards the stairs. As they climb the stairs, they stop to gasp in air each few steps, and halfway up the stairs have to stop to cough a few petals and hastily shove them into their pocket. 

They reach the top of the stairs, walk into their room, and grimace. “Ugh.” It smells sickly-sweet, like decaying flowers, even with the windows open and most of the flowers are in trash bags. All they can do is double-bag the flowers, but even that isn’t quite enough. They’ll have to smuggle the bags of blossoms out while their mother sleeps that night. In the meantime, they shove them in their closet floor and shove the door closed with not a little effort. 

There’s something disgustingly ironic about shoving the manifestation of their love into the closet. Asahi sighs and coughs. 

“Asahi?” their mother calls up the stairs. “Did you unplug the phone?” 

They walk to their door and open it, sticking their head out just enough to be heard. “Must have come unplugged while I was cleaning,” Asahi yells, voice barely strong enough to carry down the stairs. “I wiped down the counters and--” 

She cuts him off. “Be more careful next time! I’m waiting on a call!” 

Asahi sighs, quietly enough that she won’t hear. “Yes ma’am.” 

There’s nothing to do but count the minutes until Daichi and Suga call again, and mull over what to say. They can’t get out of it now; she’ll definitely give them the phone. Suga’s smart enough to make Daichi call, because their mother doesn’t know that Daichi’s queer. 

It takes thirteen minutes for the phone to finally ring, thirteen minutes of sitting at their desk sketching out nothing in particular, which turns into a long-legged model with hair that looks remarkably like Suga’s, lips that look like Suga’s when they wear that gloss that makes Asahi breathless with wanting to kiss them. They sketch as if possessed, recreating that perfect coat they’d made before, starting on a pair of cropped ponte pants that would hug their legs just so. Asahi hacks a series of blooms into the trashcan next to their desk just before--

“Asahi!” their mother calls up the stairs. “Phone for you! Don’t bother coming down; I’ll bring up the spare receiver.” 

She’s at their door in a matter of seconds; Asahi braces themself against the step of her feet, the knock on their door. She doesn’t wait to be invited in, opening the door and handing the phone to them. 

“It’s that Sawamura-kun of yours. He’s always struck me as an upstanding fellow, you know. Shame the two of you hang around with that Sugawara.” 

Asahi isn’t sure if the leaving off of the honorific is out of confusion as to which to use, or just an insult. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” their mother says, and pads out of the room. 

“Hello?” Asahi croaks, reluctant as ever they’ve been. This is going to be the hardest thing they’ve ever had to do. 

“Asahi!” Daichi says almost before they’re done speaking. “I’ve been worried sick! And Suga--he’s bitten his nails down to the quick and has been pacing 24/7. I’m surprised he hasn’t thrown up with the stress yet. Hell, I feel sick myself. What’s wrong with you? Where have you been?” 

“I don’t feel so good,” Asahi says, blinking back tears, swallowing back petals. “It’s fine; just a stupid cold.” 

“You sound like death,” Suga says. 

Asahi laughs bitterly. “I’ll be fine. It’s already better than last time.” 

“You sound way worse,” Daichi says. 

“It’s a productive cough,” Asahi says, and smiles with no mirth. “It’s getting all the gunk out of my lungs.” 

“Are you sure you shouldn’t see a doctor?” Suga asks, his voice so gentle for once in his life. 

“Don’t worry about me anymore,” Asahi says. 

“I’m always going to worry about you, Asahi,” Daichi says. 

“Yeah, I’m--” Suga starts. 

Asahi cuts him off. “I mean it. Don’t worry about me anymore. I’m just…I’m just a high school friend.” 

“You’re our  _ best _ friend and we love you,” Suga and Daichi say over each other. 

“I don’t…” Asahi says, and gags. “Just a second.” They mute the phone and reach for the wastebasket. 

They gag flower after flower after flower into the trash can, hacking up almost entire bouquets that tear even farther at the edges of their mouth with their sheer width and mass. They look at the flowers in the trash can and shiver, realizing that they came out of them, and then retch again, again, again. Finally it calms, and Asahi wipes their bloody lips. 

“Are you okay?” Daichi asks. They can practically hear the worried frown in his voice. 

“I don’t love you,” Asahi gasps out, then loses control again. When the tides of flowers finally cease, they bring the phone back up to their ear to hear sniffling. 

“You made Suga cry,” Daichi says, voice somehow both accusing and concerned. 

“You’re crying too, asshole,” Suga accuses. “You didn’t mean that, though, did you Asahi?” 

Asahi takes a deep breath, swallows hard. “High school friends never last. You know that.” 

They have to protect Daichi and Suga from themself, even as it feels that their heart may fall from their lips along with the flowers. 

“You promised!” Suga accuses. “You said we’d never change.” 

Asahi’s voice comes out cold and hard. “You know nobody ever really means that. I have to move on, stop playing silly high school games. We’ve grown apart too far.” 

“You--” Daichi begins.

“I’m sorry,” Asahi whispers, their only concession to the emotions tearing them apart. 

Then they hang up the phone and cough and cough and cough, falling out of the chair, sinking down to the floor, retching until fruitless dry heaves produce nothing but leaves. Terror grips them as they realize they can’t breathe, and then they know no more. 

#####

They wake up to their mother’s scream. 

“Asahi!” she keens, shaking them awake, her fingernails gripping into their shoulder. “Wake up!” 

Asahi wakes up groggy, dizzy, with a hell of a headache. 

“Are you awake? Are you alive?” she asks. “Should you go to the doctor? What happened to your  _ face? _ ” 

“I must have accidentally used the latex gloves to clean,” Asahi says, frowning and touching their face like they hadn’t noticed it before. 

“You could have  _ died _ ,” their mother says, and Asahi laughs harshly. 

“It’s not anaphylaxis,” Asahi says. 

“It could have been!” their mother scolds. “You fainted! In the middle of the room! With all these...why are you covered in flowers?” 

Asahi groans and clutches their head, trying to buy a little time to bullshit some kind of answer. “I was using them to sketch florals,” Asahi says. “I wanted something unique. I was thinking about printing my own fabric.” 

“Well that will have to wait,” their mother says. She holds out her hand and braces as they take it and pull themself up. “Go to bed right now, young man.” 

Asahi smiles weakly at her, but it doesn’t reach their eyes. They don’t even flinch. “Yes ma’am.” They take three steps forward and fall, exhausted and sore-chested, into bed. 

#####

Asahi wakes up at 6 AM to their alarm and groans. How are they going to make it to work? Even with a face mask… They reach up to their face and feel the intensified swelling and blistering, too much for a mask to cover. 

Fuck. 

Asahi hears a knock on their door and rolls over so their face is towards the wall, trying to hide as much of it as they can. They pull up a blanket over their face and wait. 

“Asahi?” their mother calls in. “Asahi, you’re in no condition to go to work today. I called in for you.” 

She opens the door and walks into Asahi’s room, leaning over them and pressing a kiss to their forehead to try to gauge their temperature. 

“Good news,” she says. “If you’ve got a fever, it’s broken.” 

“That's good,” Asahi groans, and coughs weakly. “Thank you.” They gag as they try to swallow down the two petals they’ve coughed up. 

“Oh sweetheart…” their mother says. “I’ll bring up some rice--that shouldn’t upset your poor stomach too much--and some more Pocari Sweat.” 

Asahi nods and moans quietly, part from exhaustion and pain and part from playing their part as a sick child. 

“I’ve got to get ready for work, but I’ll leave your food on your nightstand. Get some sleep, all right?” 

Asahi nods, rolls over, and slips back into sweet oblivion.    
  
It could have been an instant or a year before there’s a pinging noise that startles them awake. 

“Asahi!” a voice hisses. A familiar voice. 

“Asahi!!!” another voice calls. 

“Asahi, are you alive?” the first voice calls. Nishinoya. 

“Why the hell would they be dead, dumbass?” the second one says. Tanaka. 

“Don’t call me stupid! I have my reasons!” Nishinoya says. 

“Dumbass reasons,” Tanaka replies. 

“And here I thought you loved me,” Nishinoya says. 

Asahi stands and scrambles to the window, pulling on a face mask before they open it. “Quiet down you two! My mom’ll hear you!” The last thing they need is Asahi’s mother, and therefore Tanaka’s parents, finding out about their relationship. He’s out, of course, to Saeko, but both Tanaka siblings are doing the awkward dance of hoping and praying their parents don’t find out about their partners. 

“Asahi...it’s 3 PM,” Noya says. 

“Right.” Now they can see that the sun is on the other side of the sky, and much higher than when they first awoke. 

“Let us in!” Tanaka says, running to the door and dramatically prying at it. 

Asahi sighs good-naturedly as they struggle their way down the stairs. Breathing is still hard, but everything is easier than the day before. 

“There’s snacks in the fridge,” Asahi says, motioning towards the kitchen as they let the boys in. “I wasn’t exactly prepared for you two.” Their eyes shoot daggers at Noya. 

Noya shakes it off easily. “We were hoping we could come  _ distract _ you.” 

“Well nice as that is, I had plans for working on my designs and not infecting anybody because I’m  _ sick.”  _

“Oh that? Don’t worry! Yuu told me that it was just a latex allergy. And regular allergies, it sounds like? My dude, you really should see an allergist,” Tanaka says. 

“I know,” Asahi says, and sighs, burying their face in their hands. 

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Noya says. “I’m just looking after you.” 

“I know,” Asahi says miserably. “I just…” 

“I know,” Noya says. 

“Okay, I know you two are best friends, but have you always talked like there’s something you’re hiding from me, or is this new?” Tanaka raises his eyebrows. 

Asahi fakes a laugh. “It’s just...anxiety stuff.”

“You should also see a therapist,” Tanaka says, his voice matter-of-fact. 

“I know; my parents just think therapy’s for the weak,” Asahi says. Here, they find themself in familiar territory.

“Mine too,” Tanaka says. “When the counselor referred me for ADHD they shut that shit down  _ quick _ .” He gives Asahi a pat on the back, and while Asahi didn’t  _ lie _ about his parents, they still feel guilty. 

“Let’s head up to my room,” Asahi says. “I feel weird socializing in the kitchen. Like, what if my mom comes home from work early and catches us?” 

“Then we’d say we came over to look after you and it wouldn’t be a problem.” Nishinoya shrugs. “I can come up with an excuse for anything.” 

“You did get kind of suspended,” Asahi points out. 

“He said he could come up with one, not that it would work.” Tanaka grins, sharklike, and he and Asahi share a chuckle while Nishinoya pouts. 

“Fine, fine, let’s go to your room then. I’m bringing juice and chips, though.” Noya grabs a bag of chips and three juice boxes and sprints up the stairs. Tanaka manages to slip in just ahead of him, and Asahi trails behind both boys, struggling to get back up the stairs. 

“Shit, your breathing sounds awful,” Tanaka says. “You sure you’re okay there?” 

“I’m fine,” Asahi says. “I just look bad.” 

“You’re not wrong,” Noya says. 

“You’re really not.” Tanaka opens the door to Asahi’s room. “After you two.” 

“It smells weird in here,” Noya says, wrinkling his nose. 

“It smells like sick. Because I’m sick,” Asahi says, and with his eyes begs Noya to shut up. 

“Okay, I had that one coming,” Noya says, and sits down on Asahi’s bed. 

“You’ve got...flowers?” Tanaka says, pointing to the trash can. 

“I’m working on florals,” Asahi says. It’s the second time they’ve said it, and lying is beginning to feel like second nature. Asahi has always prided themself on their honesty, so this development doesn’t settle well in their stomach. 

“Florals? I thought you’d switched to menswear?” 

“Love a guy in florals,” Noya says. “Hey, Ryuu, will you model something for me?” 

“I have nothing to model,” Asahi says. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t fit right anyway. It was made for...someone else.” They cough, lightly, and gag back the petals that come up into their mouth. 

Flowers do not taste good. 

“Make him something sexy!” Noya crows. “Give it a deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep v-neck, and cut off the sleeves, and, oh! No pants! Just a Speedo!” 

“I hate sewing stretch,” Asahi says. 

“Fine, then short shorts! The really short kind!” Noya bounces up and down on the bed. 

Tanaka rolls his eyes. “Isn’t my opinion important in any of this?” 

“Fine, what do you want?” Asahi says. 

“Sleeveless sounds good but...I’m not so sure about the florals. Or the speedo.” 

“Man-gerie!” Noya crows. 

“No lingerie!” Tanaka says, cheeks reddening. 

Noya laughs. “Okay babe.” He pecks him on the cheek, and Tanaka’s cheeks redden just a bit farther. 

“How about something cool, like a suit but it looks like I flexed the sleeves off? Or street fashion,” Tanaka suggests. 

“I’m really very new to menswear,” Asahi qualifies. “It was mostly for this one project. Inspired by...” They hold back another cough, and let the sentence trail off. 

“How about we talk about literally anything else!” Nishinoya says. 

“But I wanna hear who Asahi has a crush on!” Tanaka leans towards Asahi as they shrink back, their lungs clenching as they try to hold in their cough. 

It doesn’t work. 

Their face mask bulges with flowers and they begin to gag on the stems as they cough, until they rip the mask off their ears and hack up flower after flower. Each bouquet of two falls down to the floor with the gentlest plop, a cruel contrast to the hacking and choking coming from the one producing them.    
  
“Asahi! Are you okay!” Noya says, gripping their shoulders claw-tight. 

Asahi nods as tears stream down their cheeks, as four flowers at once burst from their throat. 

“What the fuck?” Tanaka says. “I’m--someone needs to--I’m--” 

Asahi hums frantically through the flowers, trying to point Noya at Tanaka who is looking frantically between the flowers and his cell phone. Noya grabs the phone away and pulls it up to show Asahi that Tanaka has already texted the first person he thought of who could maybe help. 

A text to Daichi:  _ something’s wrong with asahi.  _

Asahi starts coughing again, and doesn’t stop until they’re on the ground clawing at their throat, until Noya is pulling flowers desperately from their mouth, until their lungs finally relax to the sweet relief of unconsciousness. 

####

“Asahi! Asahi, are you all right?” 

They wake up soaking wet to a slap in the face. 

“Don’t  _ hit _ them Yuu!” 

“You got to throw water on them,  _ Ryuu _ !” 

“I thought it would work!” 

“It clearly didn’t! Now--” 

Asahi blinks open their eyes. 

“Please don’t hit me again,” they say, and cough weakly, spitting out stems and leaves. 

“Asahi, did you just fucking die? Why the fuck aren’t you in the hospital?” Tanaka says. 

“Because this is some bullshit magic that there’s no cure for, so they’ve decided to suffer stoically in silence or something and honestly? I don’t buy it either,” Nishinoya says aggressively. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t call an ambulance right now.” 

Asahi’s eyes brim with tears. “Please don’t. If I have to die, let me die at home with my designs, and my…” Their gaze flits to the picture of them with Daichi and Suga. “With them.” 

“But you’re not going to tell them?” 

“Suga?” Tanaka asks. A fair assumption, given the pronoun. 

“Both,” Asahi says. Their voice is croaky with tears and what’s likely damage to their throat. “Daichi too.” 

Tanaka sucks in air through his teeth. “Well  _ shit.”  _

“Yeah,” Asahi says. “Well shit.” 

“I don’t understand. How are you...what is...why is it flowers?” Tanaka asks. His eyes are wide and a touch frenzied as he kneels next to Asahi. 

“Hanahaki,” Asahi says. “It’s a...disease? Curse? I don’t know. I’ve been reading the book. It says they don’t know. Though, for one thing, it also says it’s fake, which is a definite stamp against it.” 

“It’s not biologically possible. I didn’t do great in biology, but I know that much,” Tanaka says. 

“It happens when you love someone and it’s not requited. It’s not supposed to happen for more than one person, either. So here I am. Not only impossible, but double impossible.” Asahi sighs, cautiously trying to sit up so that they’re not just on the floor in a puddle. They cough again, and fail as they have to pull stems from their mouth. 

“You texted Daichi,” Asahi says. 

“I don’t see the problem. They’re your best friends. Why can’t you just tell them you love them?” 

“If they don’t love Asahi back…” Noya says. “Things could get so much worse.” 

“Plus...if they don’t, they’d feel like they had to anyway. I’m not pushing them into a relationship they don’t want. I’d genuinely rather die than hurt them.” Asahi coughs again, and more flowers fall to the floor. 

“You’re gonna have to come to grips with that one way more literally than most people do,” Tanaka says. 

“You can’t text them again, you know. Just tell them that everything’s fine.” Asahi says. 

“I don’t think I should,” Tanaka says. “Think about them. Coming back one day and their best friend’s just...gone.” 

“I know,” Asahi says. “But there’s nothing else I can do.” 

“You can do it, right? Come up with some bullshit excuse?” 

“Yeah, I can. You know you’re being a real dumbass right now, don’t you?” Tanaka says, turning to Asahi. 

“Yeah,” Asahi says. “I know.” They sigh. “Can I...I know you guys had good intentions.” 

“We were supposed to  _ distract _ you from them,” Noya says. “I thought--” 

“I was an idiot,” Tanaka says. 

“No, you didn’t know,” Asahi says. “I can’t blame you. You either,” they say to Noya. 

“I guess so,” Noya says, hanging his head. 

“Can I have some time alone? I don’t really feel like entertaining.” 

“We love you,” Noya says. “I’ll lock up with the spare key.” 

Asahi really has no memory of giving Noya a spare key. “Thank you,” they say instead of worrying. 

“I do love you, man. Not man. Uh,” Tanaka says. 

“Love you guys too,” Asahi says. They begin climbing with no small difficulty onto the bed, until Nishinoya and Tanaka grab their limbs and haul them up onto it. “I’m gonna sleep now, I think.” 

Noya leans down and kisses them on the forehead. “Sleep good, Asahi.” 

“Yeah,” Tanaka says. “Sleep good.” 

#####

Asahi wakes alone to a series of texts on their phone. 

_ Mom: I got called on an emergency trip. There’s food in the freezer and money for delivery on the counter. Love you! _

Good. They’d prefer to suffer alone right now. 

_ Noya: I’m so sorry it worked out like that i really did mean 2 help _

_ Tanaka: I think that everything’s ok now; Daichi-san didn’t respond.  _

They prepare a text to their mother-- _ love you too; see you later-- _ one to Noya _ \--not your fault; still love you-- _ and one to Tanaka-- _ dw; not mad.  _

Then they sit down to draw. 

The images pour out of their pencil. A button-up shirt with a hint of lace around the hem, with the slightest pouf in the sleeves, paired with sleek slim-cut pants. A slouchy tank top, paired with a crisp vest and wide-legged pants. Each model’s face is all too familiar. Each outfit has elements of them both. 

They keep the wastebasket by them, but they find they barely need to cough while they work. The graphite lines purge their emotions as surely as the coughing purges the flowers from their lungs.

A ping on the window. They stop just as they finish a sharp-lined, masculine skirt, and open the window in time for another pebble to be thrown in past the glass. 

“Nishinoya, I don’t think it’s a good--” 

Then there’s that laugh, the one they know all too well. 

“Not Nishinoya, Asahi. Did you miss me?” Suga grins brightly up at them from downstairs. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Daichi asks, cutting straight to the point. 

“You have to go,” Asahi says. They slam the window shut and huddle over the trash can as their temporary respite is ended, but the trashcan spills in their shaking hands, leaving them crouched in a puddle of moist blooms as they cough up ever more. 

There’s a noise, footsteps on the stairs. 

“Asahi, I picked the lock,” Suga calls in. 

“We don’t believe you!” Daichi says. “This isn’t you! We can fix whatever trouble you’re in--hell, if it’s your parents, you can come live with us.” 

“We love you, dammit,” Suga says. 

“Go away,” Asahi rasps through their coughing. Their vision blurs around the edges. Their hands claw deep into their mouth as they pull out stems and leaves. 

“We’re not leaving until you tell us what’s wrong,” Suga says, and pulls open the door. 

“Asahi!” Daichi yells as he sees them. Asahi thinks, in a moment, that they must be quite an image, splayed out amidst the flowers. They hack out an explosion of blossoms and their vision narrows until all that there is in the world is Daichi’s grim expression and Suga’s face of shock and horror. 

“Hey,” Suga says, running forward. “Hey, we’ve got you.” 

“Spit that out!” Daichi yells, frozen in the doorway. “Asahi what are you  _ doing?  _ Aren’t those--isn’t that poison? You can’t--don’t leave us.” Tears fall down his face like spilled diamonds. 

Another twin set of blossoms falls to the ground as Asahi heaves and heaves. 

“They’re not eating them,” Suga says, voice uncharacteristically sober. “They’re coughing them up.” 

“I don’t understand,” Daichi says. 

“I’ve read...listen. I’ve read enough dirty romance novels in my day to recognize hanahaki. But it’s not supposed to be  _ real,”  _ Suga says. 

“Hanahaki?” Daichi asks, flabbergasted.” 

Asahi laughs, giddy from lack of oxygen. It’s a horrifying sound, even to their own ears. “You cough up flowers, and then you die.” 

“You’re not supposed to die,” Suga says. “Nothing in the books said anything about--” 

Daichi finally finds his footing, steps into the room, picks up the book tossed carelessly on the floor next to Asahi. 

“It says death, Koushi,” Daichi says. He flips through the pages. “Shit. This could really kill them.” 

“Who do you love?” Suga asks. “You have to tell us. Please. We’ll help you find them. We’ll make them fall for you. We’ll do anything.” 

“That’s the problem,” and Asahi laughs again, flowers spilling from between their blistered lips as they do so. The part of their brain that’s still lucid knows they must look like a lunatic, laughing madly as they cough up twisted braids of flowers. “It’s you.” 

“Me?” Suga asks, something in their face that looks like--hope? No, it can’t be. 

“Both of you,” Asahi says. “You were never supposed to know! I don’t want to force you into--” 

Daichi’s mouth hangs open. The book falls to the floor. He takes two steps forward and kneels, hanging onto Asahi’s arm like a life preserver. 

“You idiot!” Suga says. “What more did I have to do to declare my interest? I said I loved you! We both did!” 

“As frie--” 

“As everything, dumbass,” Daichi says. 

“Everything we have,” Suga says. “It’s always been yours.” 

“We thought you rejected us!” Daichi said. “All we’ve ever wanted is the three of us. Together.” 

“Together?” The word is muffled by flowers. Asahi blinks slowly, grips the stems spilling from their lips and pulls. “Together?” they ask again. 

“Always,” Suga says. They grab their collar and pull them in for a long kiss, not flinching at the blisters or the petals still falling from Asahi’s mouth. Asahi feels their lungs still, feels the pain half-quiet as the fact that they are  _ loved _ sinks into their bones. 

Suga pulls back. “I love you, Azumane Asahi, and I will for the rest of my goddamn life.” 

An explosion of morning glory petals bursts from between Asahi’s lips. They cough rough and deep and the petals hit Suga in the face, filling the space between them with pale pink confetti. 

And then they look at Daichi, at the way he’s softly gazing at the two of them--at his two loves, could it be?--and cough an anemone. It comes out alone, not twisted together with a morning glory. 

Daichi leans forward, takes Asahi’s cheek with his hand, and gently turns it towards him. 

“Kiss me,” he murmurs, almost touching their lips, and Asahi oh-so-willingly obliges. 

The rest of the anemones come out in a twisted burst of petal and stem, of leaf and bloom and bud. Asahi pulls away from Daichi’s lips just in time to retch them into the trash can. 

They look at Suga, at Daichi, gazing at them with awe and wonder and so much love, enough love to last them a lifetime, and they don’t know what to say. 

“You mean it?” Asahi asks. 

Suga jabs them in the ribs. 

“How many times do I have to kiss you?” 

Asahi blinks slowly, then deliberately, batting long eyelashes. Their voice comes out husky from their haggard throat, but also from lust. 

“At least once more.” 

#####

After the loving times, after the moments where they moved together entwined, there is more quiet and peace than Asahi has known since the coughing began. Then there is speech, as lined with love as the motion that came before. 

“You really thought we weren’t in love with you?” Daichi asks, pressing a kiss to their bare shoulder.

“Only you,” Suga says. “Only you could come to that conclusion.” There’s exasperation in their voice, but fondness too. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I will love you every way, every day, for all of time.” 

Suga turns to Daichi, and he blushes. “I don’t have the words for anything beautiful.” 

“I think we just did something pretty beautiful,” Asahi mutters into his hair. 

“But I need you to know that I have loved you, and I do love you, and I will love you. Always.” Daichi buries his face in Asahi’s neck. 

“That sounds beautiful to me,” Suga says, reaching over Asahi to nudge him. 

“Lay off me,” Daichi says, lifting his head enough that his words aren’t muffled. 

“Fine, fine.” There’s a pause, then, “I need to piss,” Suga says, switching seamlessly from delicate to inelegant, and climbs over Asahi and Daichi to get out of bed. “I love you both, but I’m not getting a UTI for you.” 

“I almost died for you,” Asahi says. 

“Yeah, Koushi. You can’t handle a little pain for love?” Daichi ribs. 

“Do you really want me out of commission for two weeks?” Suga says with a filthy grin. 

“Ugh, fine,” Daichi mutters. 

“Come back soon,” Asahi says. 

Daichi nuzzles farther into Asahi’s skin. Asahi sighs happily, wrapping their arm a little tighter around him. 

“I love you,” Asahi says. They think they’ll never say it enough. 

“I love you too,” Daichi says. “Sleep now.” 

Asahi is drifting away as Suga pads back into the room, then is suddenly awakened by “What are these?” 

Asahi lifts their head to see Suga holding their latest work. “Uh...designs?” 

“Asahi, they’re incredible. I can’t believe you came up with these.” Suga pauses. “I mean, I can, because you’re incredible, but these are really something.” 

“Let me see,” Daichi says, pushing himself up on one arm and flipping through them. “Asa, I don’t know anything about anything, but...these are amazing.” 

“They’re bold, they’re avant garde, they’re timeless…” Suga says. 

Asahi laughs. “Now you’re just repeating buzzwords.” 

Suga shakes their head. “No, babe. These are really something. You could...you could really be something, with designs like this.” 

Asahi looks over them, flipping through each page and looking at the designs with fresh, lovestruck eyes. “I made these for the two of you, you know. I put everything I felt into them.. But there’s something missing.” 

“Have you considered,” Suga says, “that it was never meant to be just the two of us? Even in clothing.” 

“Koushi, that’s sappy,” Daichi says. 

“Shut up. I mean it,” Suga says. “They need more of Asahi in them.” 

Asahi looks back at the designs--the hard and the soft, Suga’s quips matched with Daichi’s caring nature, Suga’s softness matched with Daichi’s stoicism--and it hits them. 

“Florals,” Asahi says. “It needs florals.” 

##### 

“Sweetheart!!!” Daichi says. 

“Asa baby!!” Suga crows. “We miss you so much!” 

“I miss you too, my loves,” Asahi says. “What’s your pronouns?” 

“He today!” Suga says. 

“Why are you calling?” Daichi asks. “Not to say you can’t, but you never call at this time of day.” 

“The mail just got here.” Asahi is breathless. “Guess what I got?” 

“Our care package?” Suga squeals. 

“No, better!!” Asahi enthuses. “I got a design scholarship!” 

“Asahi that’s  _ amazing,”  _ Daichi says. 

“Congratulations!” Suga exclaims, half speaking over him. “Where to?” 

“Not your college,” Asahi says. “But it’s close!” 

“Close enough that we could see each other more often?” Daichi asks. 

“Close enough to commute. I could live with you.” Asahi’s voice suddenly drops in volume, becoming unsure. “That is...if you wanted.” 

“Of course we want you, doofus!” Suga effuses. 

“You mean we get you all the time?” Daichi asks. 

“As long as you’ll have me,” Asahi says. 

They can hear Suga’s smile over the phone. “Then you’re ours forever.” 

“Yeah,” Daichi says. “Forever.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my cheerleaders: Adri, Kou, Kia, and Sin Central! Love you all! 
> 
> Thanks again to LukasTreeHouse on twitter for the beta! 
> 
> Title is from the song Bloom (Hanahaki) by ofgeography


End file.
